A Hungarian Winter
by thestudyofwholock
Summary: The untold story of what really happened in Budapest. Clintasha Fic
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A thick fog lay heavily upon the city as the morning commuters made their way to work. Amongst the crowd of people was a red-haired woman, moving stealthily between figures and watching her surroundings. Before she had time to react a sharp arrow flew past her scalp.

She hit the floor and bolted towards the edge of the bustling square. She knew she had little time to get undercover. Trained assassins were on her trail, most likely sent from SHEILD. Another arrow went whizzing past. She ran up the closest street and found refuge below a staircase. She had encountered hundreds of bullets in her line of work but never an arrow.

There was no doubt that her likely pursuer would be a special sharpshooter, fluent in the language of archery. There was nothing their chosen weapons couldn't hit. She decided perhaps pondering wasn't the greatest thing to do whilst being chased so made a run for it.

* * *

Standing on a grey building he had the perfect view of the city, and his target. The job was clear. Take her down before she does any more damage. His research had been thorough, going over all her paperwork, studying every one of her false names and identities. She was an extremely talented spy.

Nevertheless, he was still able to corner her in a small square in the centre of Budapest. Her red hair made her easy to spot. He traced her path with the tip of his arrow until she came to rest. Seizing his chance he took a deep breath in and drew back his bows string. Suddenly his palm opened sending the arrow straight at her head, but that's what he thought. The arrow skimmed past sending her into a frenzy, shuffling through the crowd towards the street. He grew angry. He never misses.

"One in a million" he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a new arrow out of his quiver.

Launching himself onto the next building he once again took aim upon her head, another breath and another miss. He cursed his bow as he saw her disappear further down the street.

* * *

Sitting in a safe house had never felt so dangerous. She could be ambushed at any time. She began to trawl through records grabbing papers to help her get out of the country. She came across her real passport.

"Natalia Romanova" she murmured as she reminisced about the time she had spent living under her true identity.

She once again began to claw through the papers, tracing the information with her finger. She still couldn't find what she needed. Finally it appeared beneath a birth certificate, a pilot's license and ID for Natasha Romanoff. Shoving them into a rucksack she moved towards the door, picking up a detonator on the way out. A pre-cautious move she had learnt in training. Always clean up after yourself. Taking one last look she flipped the switch and turned her back to the fiery explosion.

* * *

He had been running through the streets for at least half an hour before he came to the conclusion that she was gone. He was exhausted. Physically and mentally, but he couldn't give up. Darting into a small alley he pressed a finger to his ear and relayed his current location and status to the SHIELD base.

At the end of his broadcast he added, rather grudgingly, "Target is still active".

A deep voice startled him, "When SHIELD allowed you to carry out this mission we expected results, Barton."

Noting the anger in Fury's voice he replied with great caution "She is a very experienced spy, tracking her has not been easy" A long sigh of frustration carried through the earpiece. Fury was not happy.

"I am running out of patience, Barton, Just get the job done and get back here." And with a small click he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The airport was a short distance from the city but there was too much open space to be able to travel on foot the entire way. As the buildings began to thin, Natasha hailed a taxi.

"Repülőtér" she called to the driver, sliding down into the back seat. With a curt nod from the driver they pulled back into traffic.

She watched as the few remaining buildings slid by in a grey haze. The airport slowly appeared out of the fog and a chorus of horns rang out when the taxi driver made an invasive turn across traffic so he could pull into the off-ramp. The driver grunted and Natasha took this as a sort of apology. Manners were obviously a foreign concept.

The taxi came to a stop outside the main terminal a rough voice called out the fare from the front of the cab. She passed him the money, no tip. Bag in hand, she moved from the taxi into the awaiting crowd, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Papers flew everywhere as he hurried to gather information. Knowing an archer was on her tail, the subject would be out of the country within a matter of hours. But how?

He knew she had a pilot's license, she had used it often enough. Even if she had been shifting between names it was his best bet that she would be at the airport.

Suddenly an explosion echoed throughout the city, followed by wailing sirens, "Damnnit" he muttered under his breath, hurrying towards the door.

The cold air hit him like a brick wall and his teeth chattered insistently as he strode away from the house. After getting in the black SUV he had been loaned by SHEILD and placing his bow and quiver in the passenger seat, he powered up the GPS and entered his destination. The airport, although a short distance away, it was imperative he took the fastest route possible.

He then began to once again report back to SHIELD "Agent Barton, currently on route to Budapest Airport, requesting an immediate no-fly recommendation on these names." He then began to list his targets known aliases, "… And Natasha Romanoff."

Another agent met his request "Copy that, Agent Barton, we have alerted the airport and have operatives keeping watch".

* * *

The main terminal was brightly lit compared to the grey fog that hung in the air outside. Service desks ran the length of the far wall. A man sat with his arms folded lazily across his chest next to a door. Slumped against his chair with his hat pulled down over his eyes he barely acknowledged Natasha as she approached.

The guards pager was flashing, no doubt a warning from SHIELD and Natasha flipped open her pilots license. With an exasperated sigh he slid his key card through the machine next to the doorframe. Natasha pushed the heavy metal door as the guard fumbled with his pager. He did a double take just before Natasha had slammed the door and retrieved a jammer from her pack. Slapping it onto the door and tapping in the activation code.

She could hear the guard desperately swiping his card and repeatedly being denied access. Giving up he signalled the other guards by speaking frantically into his walkie-talkie. Heavy steps on the linoleum echoed through the door and down the hallway as the other guards approached.

Natasha slipped away from the door and moved along the grey speckled walls. She secured two more jammers onto the next two doors, blocking of all access into that section of the building. The final door opened and revealed a cloakroom for the airports employees. Locking the door behind her she picked the lock of the closest locker and pulled out a pilot's uniform that consisted of a crisp white shirt, black dress pants and a black blazer. She quickly assumed her new role and placed the accompanying pilot's hat, which she had found in the locker, on her head.

She grabbed her pack and searched the bottom layer of the bags contents. As a final precaution, she pulled a thigh holster and her handgun from the pack and hid it beneath the tails of her blazer. She unlocked the door and moved back into the hallway. The buzzing of an electric tool, being used to open one of the doors, filled the long room. She moved back to the second door and deactivated the jammer. She looked back to check the other doors and then stepped out into the grey light of the tarmac.

* * *

He arrived at the airport and flashed his credentials at the parking supervisor. He spied a broad shouldered man at one of the back doors that led into the car park. The SUV came to a stop beside him. He exited the truck and pulled his bow and quiver with him.

"What's the situation, Agent…?" He prompted the man, who had since removed a pair of dark sunglasses.

"Agent Williams. We have yet to acquire a visual on the target. We don't want to send in any men if we don't have to. We're counting on you to get her out without kicking up too much of a fuss, that's the last thing we need at the mome nt." The other agent replied.

Suddenly the man's communicator beeped and a rough voice came from the other end. "Target has infiltrated security door number three in the main terminal. I repeat, target has infiltrated security door number three."

Barton grabbed Agent Williams arm and questioned him "What is behind security door number three?" He shook his arm, urging him to answer.

"Nothing, besides a few cloakrooms and… and…" He eyed Barton nervously, "And a door out onto the tarmac but, she wouldn't, would she?"

Barton tightened his grip around the other agents arm and growled, "Make sure every one of your men is out on that tarmac, and tell them to check anywhere and everywhere. Communicator?" Agent Williams pulled an extra communicator from his pocket and handed it to Barton but before he could utter another word, Barton had taken off in the direction of the far corner of the building.

He relayed the instructions into his communicator and the rough voice responded, "How do you know she will be out on the tarmac?" Agent Williams called after Barton.

Barton yelled back at the operative, "Because she is going to steal a plane."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The thick fog that hung over the city had slowly begun to lift. Natasha slipped between baggage carts and moved towards one of the planes. The door was open and the stairs were deployed. The faint sound of a vacuum cleaner drifted from within the cabin. The appliance powered down and Natasha heard the dull thuds of the cleaner walking along the planes aisle.

She took a chance and scaled the steps. She entered the cabin and glanced down the aisle. The cleaner was readjusting the safety instruction sheets. He didn't seem to have noticed Natasha.

She raised an eyebrow at his appearance. A tight black tank covered his upper body. He had a reflective vest tied loosely around his waist. His pants matched his top, they were black but with panels of leather and were extremely form-fitting. 'Not like any cleaner I've ever seen.' Natasha thought to herself.

The cleaner continued down the aisle, checking each seat before arriving at the opposite end of the cabin and disappearing behind a curtain. Natasha waited until the ripples in the fabric settled and turned to enter the cockpit. As soon as her hand gripped the handle the set of stairs outside the plane disappeared from view and the planes door closed with a sharp snap.

* * *

Outside one of the small plane windows, he saw her moving across the tarmac and returned to the area at the back of the plane. He turned on the vacuum cleaner and set it down outside the curtain that separated the area from the rest of the plane.

He eyed the bright yellow reflective vest, which was hanging up beside the doorframe, and decided to tie it around his middle. Then, he positioned his quiver and bow next to the doorframe. He grabbed his communicator, secured it to his belt and re-entered the cabin.

Quickly, he switched off the vacuum and repositioned himself with his back to the entrance and fiddled with a safety instruction sheet. He barely heard the feather light steps that climbed up the stairs but, that didn't matter. Throughout his years of training he had been taught the subtle changes that can occur in an environment when another person is present.

Listening for her breathing he continued down the aisle. With each step the atmosphere changed, the tension growing thicker and her gaze, stronger. Her eyes seemed to bore into his back. He could almost feel the pupils burning perfect circles in the fabric of his top. Before he knew it, he was back at the curtain.

Calmly, he swept past the curtain and gathered his bow and strung his quiver around his shoulder. He grasped the emergency door lock, took a deep breath and pulled.

* * *

Natasha whipped around and clawed for her gun on her thigh only to meet Clint's eyes and arrow staring right back.

"Put your hands behind your head and get down on your knees." Clint's stern voice rebounded off the cabin walls. Natasha stared insistently at the mystery archer and slowly dropped to the ground, entwining her hands behind her head.

He lowered his bow and moved towards her. There was no point in making a mess, if he could avoid killing her he would. "I have been following you for months." Clint growled as he removed the gun from her holster.

"Looks like you finally caught up with me." Natasha's smirk that accompanied her response defied the tense atmosphere within the cabin.

"You have no reason to be happy, under the authority of SHEILD and ally associations I now place you under arrest and..." Clint was interrupted by a small giggle that escaped Natasha's lips. Clint's patience was wearing thin. "Like I said you have no reason to be happy, you are in SHEILD custody now." Clint's teeth gritted in an effort to restrain from slapping the look off her face.

"I'm well aware of that, Agent, but are you really going to apprehend me like that?" Natasha cocked her head, "You have been looking for your time to strike for months, don't let a little government organization ruin _all_ the fun. How did you imagine this would go in your head? A fast paced chase through the streets of Dubai or an ambush on the West African plains?" Natasha kept her voice steady, praying her rouse would last a little longer, "I don't know about you but doesn't this all seem a little domestic? You are trained to kill and yet here you are, your weapon lowered."

Clint's grip tightened around his bow and he took a breath, ignoring Natasha's attempts to distract him. He began again "Under the authority of SHIELD, I place you under arrest for the murder of three operatives and direct violation of Clause 1113. You will be taken to a secure SHIELD facility and be provided a trial date where your fate will be decided by the Board of Directors." Natasha's smile fell as Clint motioned for her to stand. He gathered her hands in his and clicked a pair of handcuffs around her wrists.

As Natasha stood bound by her metal restraints Clint warned her. "There is no way out so I suggest you stay here."

Clint began to pace backwards towards the curtain to retrieve his pack. He raised his communicator and said "Come in, Agent Williams. Agent Williams, come in." When he received no response he tried again, "Agent Williams, the target has been detained. Urgent assistance is required." Barton waited but, he was met only by static. "Agent Williams…"

Clint turned slightly in order to grab his pack from behind the curtain and before he could react Natasha flew at him. She leapt down the aisle and swung her cuffed arms which made contact with his left temple. Clint hit the floor with a hollow bang that echoed against the cabin walls.

Natasha stood over him. "Rule number one; never turn your back on your opponent."

Whilst the agent was dazed and gripping at his temple, Natasha grabbed the keys from his pocket.

"Rule number two; never handcuff a prisoner when their hands are in front of them." She stepped over Clint and reached behind the curtain.

"Rule number three; get better backup." She said as she nodded towards the communicator which was still crackling with static.

"And you call yourself an agent." She laughed as she flipped the emergency door latch and swiftly moved towards the other end of the aisle.

The door slid open and the stairs lowered slowly and when it was finally open Natasha was blinded by the winter sun that had been hiding behind the clouds then **CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!**


End file.
